


Lilacs & Pink Camellias

by marvel_and_mischief



Series: Floriography Series [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, happy ending!, not really a character death, visiting a grave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_and_mischief/pseuds/marvel_and_mischief
Summary: Floriography is the meanings behind flowers.Lilacs:a reminder of an old love.Pink Camellias:longing for you.
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader, Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/You
Series: Floriography Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153310
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19





	Lilacs & Pink Camellias

It was customary to bring flowers to a grave, but seeing as the grave itself was a flowerbed with a vast array of purple buds and pink petals, you didn’t think it necessary. 

The mound of earth stood in a private fenced off area on a small part of land that was technically yours now, it was written in the will after all. A little under hundred feet away was the house that was also left to you, a one storey building with all the basics, nothing fancy, it was perfect for what you and Jack needed.

_Jack Daniels_  
Loving Husband  
Gone Too Soon 

You read over the words on the grey stone slab. Simple, to the point, just like the man. It reminded you of the first time you’d met him, the way he’d been so forward yet charming in only the way Jack could get away with.

_“I need these files sorted before- why hello there, you must be new because I would have noticed someone as beautiful as you if you’d been here before.”_

_You stared at the man, who had thrown down multiple files on your desk, like a deer in headlights. He was wearing the most outrageous whiskey bottle shaped belt buckle you’d ever seen, and on top his head sat an oversized stetson with small studs along the brim. He looked like he’d jumped straight out of a wild west cartoon but here he was, in the flesh, waiting for a response._

_“I started today,” you breathed out, earning a smirk from the man and a wink._

_“Agent Whiskey, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he took your hand off the desk and left a lingering kiss on the smooth skin, “I hope I’m not being too forward, but how about I show you round this place, give you the grand tour, maybe get lunch along the way, what d’ya say?”_

You chuckled to yourself and could almost hear his Southern drawl in your ear. It had hypnotised you from day one, rendered you incapable of ever saying no to him. Lunches became dinners, which became late nights rolling into early mornings. 

Your shoulders hunched up at the sound of thunder in the distance and you looked up to notice greying clouds in the sky that hadn’t been there when you first arrived. It would rain soon, and the overgrown grass would grow higher and then you’d have to find the energy to cut it soon. It would be for the first time, the grave only a couple of weeks old. 

You felt a shudder run through your body at the thought of the upkeep, keeping the weeds trimmed, the flowers watered in the dry summers, the gravestone clean. Would you have to do this forever? Would there come a day where you would stop? Was that socially acceptable? 

You didn’t know how to keep flowers growing, had never had a garden to call your own until Jack came along, but you somehow needed to keep the lilacs and the camellias around the grave growing. They had been in the bouquet at your wedding and in the vases on the tables at the reception. Everyone had commented on how pretty they looked, including Jack.

_“How’re you doing, darling?” Jack spun you around effortlessly before pulling you back into his chest to continue dancing. This was the first time you had had the chance to speak to him, the rest of the reception having been taken up by playing host, making your way around the guests, ensuring everyone was happy with the music choice and the buffet food._

_“I’m happy, tired, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you smiled genuinely, mesmerised by the look of love in Jack’s eyes as he swayed you to the slow song playing in the background. The lights of the dance floor had been lowered, twinkling fairy lights along the wooden beams of the barn the only source of light, meaning everybody but Jack was in darkness._

_“I told you to enjoy yourself, stop trying to please everyone,” Jack pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth and pulled you closer to rest his temple against yours. His chastising was in jest, he knew you’d be like this, you always thought of others before yourself, and he wouldn’t want you any other way._

_“I am enjoying myself,” and you were, you couldn’t believe how well everything had turned out, “because everyone is happy.”Jack snorted, pulling back to give you a disbelieving look._

_“My wife.”_

_You grinned, a chuckle escaping your lips as you prepared to say the words for the first time._

_“My husband.”_

Those flowers would remind you of the most important day of your life so they had to stay.

You felt the first droplets of rain fall on your head. You wrapped your cardigan around you tighter and turned in the direction of your home, hurrying for shelter. 

You reached the wrap around porch that allowed you to look out over your garden. The vegetable patch to the left was created when you moved in shortly after your wedding day. Jack helped you plant winter vegetables, squash, carrots, you even tried pumpkins for Halloween but that hadn’t worked out, much to your amusement. 

Straight ahead was the path to Jack’s grave, in your direct line of sight when you opened the front door every morning to collect your mail. It would be a reminder of how fragile life was, how quickly it could change and to never take anything for granted, especially love. 

You sat on the porch swing, watching the pitter patter of rain turn to fat droplets that hit the porch roof with loud smacks. It was raining like this when you got the phone call telling you about Jack’s mission gone wrong. You’d never forget that day.

_Ginger ran through the door of your office like her life depended on it, short hair askew and a cell phone in her hand. You were lounging on the loveseat, shoes kicked off and feet up, lunchbox resting on your lap as you ate a sandwich and counted down the minutes until you’d have to be back behind your desk._

_You nearly laughed, your lips were starting to curve upwards but you froze at the look on Ginger’s face. It was pity, and sadness and horror all rolled into one. You didn’t understand something was terribly wrong until she opened her mouth to speak._

_“Whiskey, he’s… oh god, I’m so sorry.”_

_The words, the delivery of them. Your heart dropped, you swear you felt it happening, it was pushing against your ribs, trying to rip through your chest, that’s how much it hurt. You were choking on your own throat, or was it the sandwich you hadn’t quite managed to swallow?_

_Ginger was waiting for a reaction, prepared for a barrage of tears or a complete breakdown but she witnessed neither. Instead you put your hand out for the phone in her hand, silently demanding you hear the news from the scene._

_Taking the phone, you held it up to your ear and heard heavy breathing on the other end._

_“Jack?” Your voice broke as you awaited the news._

_“No, it’s Tequila. Whiskey’s gone. There’s nothing we could do.”_

It was obvious to say it, but rain made you think of tears, which made you think of heartbreak, which in turn made you think of that day. You think it always will.

The storm was getting worse, darkening the sky so much you could barely see over the porch railings but you still managed to spot the headlights of a car heading towards you. It drove through your gate, onto your land and parked up near the steps leading to your home. 

The man that stepped out of the car held a bag of takeout in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. He kicked the car door shut and ran up the steps, pausing in surprise to see you sat out in the cold.

“Darlin’ you best get inside before you catch your death,” he grinned and took a seat on the swing beside you, “I wouldn’t be a good husband if I let that happen now, would I?”

You chuckled and saw a glint of mischief in Jack’s eyes, those eyes that always looked at you with love and adoration.

“I was at the grave before it started raining.”

“Ah, and how was I?”

“Still dead.”

“Good, and that’s exactly how I want to stay. If it means spending the rest of my life with you.”

You sighed in relief. No Statesman to bother you, no criminals to catch, no more putting your lives on the line to save the world. Just you, Jack and your little plot of land, until the end of your days.


End file.
